Whispers of a Memory
by Flock
Summary: In life, things are not always as they seem. One ginger she-cat will find this out the hard way as she leads a life of danger, love and devastating surprises. The past is but whispers of a memory… Chapter five up 7/31/09. Please R
1. Prologue

A brown-eyed tom stared in shock at the bloody, mangled corpse of his love. Her blue eyes stared unseeingly at the sky; her mouth opened in a silenced scream. A spasm of grief rippled through his dark ginger fur, but he said nothing as he buried his nose into the dead she-cat's cold, filthy pelt. He had been numb as he watched her die, watched the life slowly fade from her eyes, watched her valiant struggles grow weaker and weaker until she could hold on no longer, listened as her heartbeat slowed until it, too, ceased. And then the grief had arrived in one huge wave, bringing him crashing back down to earth as he realized he would not hear her soft, soothing voice any longer; would not feel her gentle, loving touch ever again.

And then, like a video set on loop, the tom watched as their life together flashed before his very eyes – the day they met, hunting in the forest, confessing their love, her death. They were vivid memories, as if he was reliving each and every one over and over again. He could still smell her sweet, familiar scent; hear her joyous, carefree laughter. He closed his eyes, trying to pretend like he was still the young, innocent tom he had been when she was still alive and well; when they were very much in a doubtless, worry-free love. But he could not convince himself to let go of the nightmare that was reality. It was just memories, all of it. Just memories.

And then a pitiful, helpless mew startled the tom out of his reverie. His brown eyes clouded with grief and brimming with tears, he craned his head around to see the kit he'd forgotten; a spitting image of its late mother. The tears fell freely from the tom's eyes as he padded slowly to the small scrap of ginger fur, crying out for the milk it couldn't find. Pity swelled up in the tom's chest for the kit; it had no mother now, and he was not fit to take care of another cat. He was barely able to deal with himself. He licked the kit soothingly and its cries grew steadily quieter until they were just a desperate whimpering, as if the kit too had given up. The tom gently picked it up by its scruff and carried it to the edge of a dense woodland. He knew there were cats that lived there. Surely they could not turn away a kit without a family?

The young kit's eyes blinked open. They were a stunning blue, the exact shade as its mother's. The tom felt a staggering pang of grief as he remembered her lively gaze, and he shook his head. She would've been a wonderful mother; better than any other cat. This kit was his love reincarnated, an exact picture of her beauty. It deserved a fitting name. The tom racked his sorrow-ravaged mind for anything suitable, anything at all, until an image of the kit's mother flashed across his vision for one precious, fleeting moment.

He touched his nose lovingly to the kit's head. "Memory."

One word, one single, perfect word. Memory would be her name. The tom smiled a small, sad smile and their eyes met, and the tom saw in the little she-kit's eyes an unexplainable understanding that was there one heartbeat and gone the next. A bubble of hope grew in the tom's chest and popped – this kit would live a long, healthy, happy life. It had to. It was the last of its mother's legacy. Without this kit, all that would be left…would be memories.

"Memory," the tom whispered again, a light breeze cooling his body and ruffling his fur. The kit began to cry again and he felt the pity stir within him once more. He wished for a moment that he could stay with the kit, the daughter of his love; _his _daughter, and be a part of its life – raise it, love it, know it. But he knew it was not possible, the kit would not survive in his care. Reluctantly, the tom licked the kit one last time, and then turned and padded away sadly, back to his lover's forever still corpse to mourn.

Just memories.


	2. Allegiances

_**ThunderClan  
**_**Leader :: **Brightstar—tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat

**Deputy :: **Tawnytail—tawny tom with dark amber eyes

**Medicine Cat :: **Rainfeather—long-furred dark gray she-cat

**Warriors :: **Graypelt—gray tom  
(Apprentice; Fogpaw)

Hazelwhisker—light brown tabby she-cat, yellow-orange eyes  
(Apprentice; Dewpaw)

Lightstream—creamy she-cat with dark brown eyes  
(Apprentice; Darkpaw)

Cinderspots—gray-and-white she-cat, yellow eyes

Snowdapple—gray tom with little white spots, gray eyes  
(Apprentice; Robinpaw)

Leaftail—brown she-cat

Bluefoot—blue-gray she-cat, green eyes  
(Apprentice; Flowerpaw)

Ripplestep—dark bluish-gray tom

Birchflight—sandy brown tom, green eyes  
(Apprentice; Silverpaw)

Shadetalon—dark, dark gray tom

Duststripe—brown tabby she-cat

Berryfur—light creamy brown tom, yellow eyes

**Apprentices :: **Robinpaw—dark brown she-cat with bluish gray eyes

Silverpaw—silver she-cat, light tabby markings, blue eyes

Fogpaw—dark gray tom

Darkpaw—midnight black tom, amber eyes

Dewpaw—gray tom, green eyes

Flowerpaw—reddish-brown she-cat, white paws, green eyes

**Queens :: **Moonfall—dark gray she-cat, mate of Birchflight (Sunkit, Bramblekit, Thornkit)

Emberheart—bright ginger she-cat, brown eyes, mate of Tawnytail (Redkit, Rainkit)

**Elders :: **Lionfang—dull golden tom

Hawkflight—brownish-gray tom, blue eyes

_**ShadowClan  
**_**Leader :: **Icestar—light gray tom, green eyes

**Deputy :: **Morningpetal—light brown tabby she-cat  
(Apprentice; Heatherpaw)

**Medicine Cat :: **Nettlefur—tawny tom with blue eyes

**Warriors :: **Rustclaw—dark ginger tom, brown eyes

Littlestep—brown tabby she-cat, amber eyes

Firestorm—dark brown tom, orange-yellow eyes  
(Apprentice; Pebblepaw)

Snoweyes—dark blue-gray she-cat, gray eyes  
(Apprentice; Flamepaw)

Mistpelt—blue-gray she-cat

Goldenpool—light tawny she-cat, one blue eye, one amber

Fernshadow—black she-cat, green eyes

Nightfire—dark gray tom, yellow eyes

Weedclaw—mousy brown tom  
(Apprentice; Gustpaw)

Runningbrook—white she-cat, ice blue eyes

**Apprentices :: **Heatherpaw—sandy brown she-cat

Gustpaw—gray tom, amber eyes

Pebblepaw—gray tabby she-cat, blue eyes

Flamepaw—bright ginger tom, dark brown eyes

**Queens :: **Leafcloud—light brown tabby she-cat, pale green eyes, mate of Nightfire (Darkkit, Amberkit)

**Elders :: **Icetail—white she-cat

_**WindClan  
**_**Leader :: **Streamstar—black she-cat, bright blue eyes  
(Apprentice; Russetpaw)

**Deputy :: **Rockfall—gray tom, brown eyes  
(Apprentice; Sparrowpaw)

**Medicine Cat :: **Tawnystorm—light brown tom with random spots of tawny  
(Apprentice; Spiderpaw)

**Warriors :: **Appleflower—gray tabby she-cat, orange eyes

Lightfoot—dark brown she-cat, yellow eyes, one white paw

Sunstripe—tawny tom with a darker stripe down his spine

Mossheart—brown tabby she-cat, green eyes  
(Apprentice; Fernpaw)

Oakleaf—tortoiseshell she-cat

Raindrop—dark gray she-cat, pale blue eyes

Crowtalon—black tom  
(Apprentice; Spottedpaw)

Patchfur—gray-and-white tom, amber eyes

Cloudspots—dark gray she-cat, three white spots on flank

Redfern—pale ginger she-cat, brown eyes

Foxfang—dark brownish-ginger tom  
(Apprentice; Puddlepaw)

**Apprentices :: **Spiderpaw—dark gray, almost black tom

Puddlepaw—light gray she-cat, blue eyes

Sparrowpaw—light brown tabby she-cat, brown eyes

Spottedpaw—ginger spotted tabby she-cat, blue eyes

Russetpaw—ginger tom, amber eyes

Fernpaw—tawny she-cat

**Queens :: **Flowerfur—blue-gray she-cat, green eyes, mate of Rockfall (Stonekit, Clawkit, Lilykit)

**Elders :: **Thrushwing—brown she-cat

Grayfur—gray tabby tom, dark brown eyes

_**RiverClan  
**_**Leader :: **Volestar—brown tabby tom

**Deputy :: **Copperclaw—dark copper-brown tom, blue eyes

**Medicine Cat :: **Dovefeather—long-furred white she-cat, amber eyes  
(Apprentice; Salmonpaw)

**Warriors :: **Moletail—brown tom, pale green eyes

Stormcloud—dark gray tom

Silverstripe—gray tabby she-cat, dark amber eyes  
(Apprentice; Skypaw)

Sandfur—sandy brown tom, one blue eye, one brown

Lionclaw—tawny tom  
(Apprentice; Cinderpaw)

Nightwhisker—black tom, blue eyes

Fawnheart—brown tabby she-cat

Lightpath—light gray she-cat, brown eyes  
(Apprentice; Gorsepaw)

Rippedthroat—dark brownish-gray tom, renamed for a scar across his throat

**Apprentices :: **Salmonpaw—gray tom, green eyes

Cinderpaw—dark gray she-cat

Gorsepaw—mottled gray she-cat

Skypaw—tortoiseshell she-cat, blue eyes

**Queens :: **none

**Elders :: **Slipfoot—gray tabby tom

_**Cats Outside of Clans  
**_Memory—ginger she-cat with blue eyes, rogue

Fox—dark, dark ginger tom, dark brown eyes, rogue

Harper—tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat, kittypet

Fritz—gray tabby tom, yellow eyes, kittypet

Lightning—aggressive creamy tom, amber eyes, rogue

Sparrow—brown she-cat, rogue


	3. Chapter I

**Disclaimer: I don't own Warriors.**

**Please review, guys. Oh, and if there's any betas out there willing to help me with this story I'd love it if you could contact me.**

Memory's vision was blurred and clouded and frequently greeted by fleeting white hot flashes of panic, coming and going and blinding her like a constant solar eclipse she'd stared straight at unknowingly. Her mother was dying, and she could do nothing to help her. She watched disbelievingly as Sparrow retched for the third time, coughing and spluttering as she gasped for breath. The older she-cat was vomiting blood along with her breakfast, and Memory wanted to look away, but she couldn't; she just couldn't. If Sparrow died, she would have no one left. No one but Harper and Fritz, but what could they do for her? They chose to live the soft life of a kittypet. Memory couldn't do that, not now that she knew a life of freedom.

"Memory…"

The ginger she-cat's ears perked as Sparrow croaked her name. The brown she-cat's voice was weak and rasping, and Memory cringed at the sound of it. How had this happened to Sparrow, when just a moon before she had been so healthy and strong?

The look Sparrow gave her next made Memory's blood run cold. It was a look of such desperation, such pleading and such helplessness that Memory wanted to break down and cry then and there. But she had to stay strong – for Sparrow. "What can I do?" she breathed, her blue eyes wide with terror.

"There is nothing you can do." Memory fought down the feeling of dread that welled up inside the pit of stomach. Of course there was something she could do! Wasn't it Sparrow herself who had always taught her that nothing was impossible? Memory's ears flattened against her skull as Sparrow drew in a shaky, rattling breath and coughed out more blood. "…Stay strong, Memory…"

"No!" Memory yowled, her fur standing on end. She couldn't let Sparrow give up! She was going to make it, she had to! "You can't leave me!"

All hope had left Sparrow's yellow-orange gaze. She shook her head, but a coughing fit overtook her and Memory watched in sheer horror as the she-cat's legs buckled and gave in beneath her, her eyes rolled into her head and she gave one last shuddering breath. "Love…you…" was all she'd managed to choke out. A bubble of blood rose from Sparrow's throat and popped, splattering grotesquely across her muzzle. Memory cried out hoarsely, bounding forward to her foster mother's side. But it was too late. Sparrow was gone; with one last convulsive twitch.

Memory let go.

She didn't hold back the tears or the wails of bereavement. She had no home, no family, nowhere to go, no purpose in life. Her teacher, her guardian, her _mother_ was gone. Sparrow was all Memory had ever known, and all she'd thought she ever would know. Memory knew Sparrow wouldn't live forever, but never in her wildest of dreams had she imagined she'd go like this. Memory lay there for hours on end, sobbing uncontrollably into the dulled brown fur of the only family Memory could remember. When the sun finally began to set, Memory knew she could not stay there when it grew dark.

Hiccupping, Memory dug a shallow hole and hauled Sparrow's cold body over to the edge of it. She'd snagged her claws digging, but she couldn't feel a thing. The grief had numbed her; acted like a shield from all other emotion. She knew it would not last long, but she savored it while it did. Her expression twisted by sorrow, Memory pushed her nose into Sparrow's fur, her eyes red from crying.

"Goodbye, Sparrow. I hope you're out of pain, wherever you are." Her voice was muffled by the she-cat's long fur, but she knew she'd got her point across. Stifling another depressed sob, Memory gave Sparrow's body the slightest nudge, and the dead she-cat rolled limply into the ditch, her limbs splayed out like a ragdoll. Memory kicked dirt over Sparrow's body haphazardly, not bothering to look back at where it had landed. She smoothed it with her tail after, making sure it didn't look too out of place. The last thing Memory wanted was for a fox or badger to find Sparrow's body and scavenge upon it. As the sun sank slowly over the horizon and the sky grew dark, Memory gave one last look at Sparrow's crude grave and padded away from the only cat she'd ever known as family – her livelihood, her reason for survival. Sparrow had acted as a mother for Memory when she hadn't had one.

Realizing she was acknowledging all of this for the first time, Memory dug her unsheathed claws into the soil and tore up the sparse blades of grass and weak roots bitterly, mutilating fallen leaves and bloodying her paws as she snagged her claws worse and worse. You don't know what you've got until it's gone, Memory thought; a low hiss arising from the depths of her throat. She cast a backwards glance toward Sparrow's grave and muttered just three simple words – "Love you, too."

_x x x x x x x x x x_

It rained that night. Memory could find no better shelter than a weeping willow tree, which she found almost humorously fitting for her state. She comforted herself by pretending that the skies were crying at the loss of Sparrow, and tried to imagine the soothing warmth of Sparrow's body next to hers as she covered her face with her dirty paws and waited for sleep to come.

And eventually it did, crashing down upon her like a large, black wave, suffocating her and snuffing out her life as quickly as the mystery sickness had Sparrow's. Her sleep was desolately dreamless, a black void of nothing. The darkness was complete. Utterly impenetrable and silent, it pressed down on her until the weight was unbearable.

Memory gave in.

She awoke with a gasp, breathing heavily and trembling. Just a nightmare, she thought. Only a nightmare. She looked around expectantly, searching for the peacefully sleeping heap of brown fur – only to recall the previous day's events. Memory's face fell and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. The pain was still fresh, not dull or distant like she'd thought it would be. How long would she be grieving? Sparrow's kindly, motherly face flashed before Memory's eyes and she let out a trembling breath. Without sorrow, we would not know joy,she thought, smiling slightly as she remembered all of her foster mother's wise sayings. Sparrow had comforted Memory with that one countless times when they went a night without eating, or when Memory was just a mere two moons old and Sparrow's only biological kit, Cherry, was killed by a fox. Sparrow had not grieved long then – she'd been strong, for Memory. But Memory had no one depending on her. Was that why it was so hard for her? Lack of motivation?

"Memory? That you?"

Memory spun around, fur bristling and eyes wide in alarm. The tension faded as Memory recognized the familiar tortoiseshell-and-white pelt of her kittypet friend, Harper. Memory nodded. "Yeah, but… Harper, I'm really not in the mood." She titled her head curiously. "Wait a minute, why aren't you back in your Twoleg garden?"

Harper's eyes flashed with concern. "You and Sparrow hadn't come by in a while. I was getting worried. What's wrong, Memory? And where's Sparrow?"

Memory's vision went red with a sudden anger. It had come out of nowhere, but anything was better than the desperate sadness she had been feeling before – Memory welcomed it. "She's dead," she spat, her tail lashing. "But you wouldn't understand that, would you? You couldn't know what it's like to be this helpless; the one cat you depended on gone forever. You live your cushy little kittypet life, never worrying about how in the world you're going to find a simple meal or a dry place to sleep." Harper's yellow eyes were wide with horror, and Memory laughed bitterly, her lips curling back in a jeering snarl.

"Memory," Harper gasped, her eyes brimming with tears. "What…" Her ears flattened against her head submissively. Her eyes were shining with hurt. "You can't mean that! We've been friends since… forever! You're just grieving, you're—"

"Don't you start!" Memory cried, the anger giving way to sorrow once more. Blackness tugged at the corner of her vision and she felt like her legs were ready to crumple beneath her. "You know _nothing_ about grief, Harper, _nothing_! I _hate_ you!"

Memory turned tail and ran – ran like she'd never run before, not caring if she snagged a claw or tore her ginger fur on a bush or jutting tree branch. She had to get away from Harper, away from Sparrow, away from everything. It was chasing her, hunting her down; and she felt like she couldn't get away from it, couldn't escape. Like a rabbit on the open moors, aware of the cat sprinting after it, but with no way to lose it. Is this what it felt like to be prey? Helplessly defenseless all the time, constantly looking over your shoulder and spooking at every noise? A bitter scent overwhelmed Memory and she collapsed, her sides heaving with the useless effort to hold back her sobs. There was a distant yowl, and then there was nothing.


	4. Chapter II

**Disclaimer: I don't own Warriors, never have, never will.**

**Thanks so much for the reviews, Laughing Rain, star and horseloverheather :) I can tell you who her mother is now. It's the she-cat who died in the prologue; but you'll have to keep reading and find out who her father is!**

Memory's eyes shot open, but the resulting burst of light and color gave her an instant headache and she shut them tight again, her head spinning unpleasantly. Her legs folded in towards her stomach protectively, and her hearing gradually adjusted so she could hear voices, faintly muffled as if her ears were filled with water. The voices were unfamiliar, as were the matching scents; everything was alien and Memory didn't want to think about it. She was smelling the same strange scent from before, but this time there was a musky, tangy herb-scent floating around and several distinct cat-scents. Memory decided she was somewhere she'd never been before; she shrugged away the strangeness of it all and tuned into the conversation at hand.

"She opened her eyes, I swear, Rainfeather, she did!"

"Impossible. She's still completely unconscious. Perhaps it was a reflex, but she did _not _open her eyes intentionally. I would be able to tell if she were awake."

"Fine." The voices sounded irritated with each other. They both had an air of superiority about them, but it was a different kind of superiority for each. One was authoritative, the other was knowledgeable. Both voices were feminine, she noticed. Memory didn't think about any this too much. "You'll tell me when she wakes, then?"

"Of course, Brightstar. There's no need to worry. She's barely older than our youngest apprentices, I doubt she poses any threat… but I will alert you, all the same."

"Good. We'll see who she is when she's ready to tell us, and then we'll decide what to do with her…"

Memory's whiskers quivered as she wondered who they were talking about and why they wanted to know who they were. With a contented sigh, she dug her nose into her soft moss nest – she didn't dwell long on how she'd got there – and drifted comfortably back into unconsciousness.

_x x x x x x x x x x_

"How are you feeling?"

"What…" Memory's blue eyes blinked slowly open, and what was initially an indecipherable blur of light and colors sharpened rapidly into distinct figures and shapes as her vision focused. She was in some sort of earthen den, surrounded by stacks of herbs, nests made of dry moss and over her loomed a long-furred she-cat, with radiant green eyes. Memory couldn't help but think that this cat was one who possessed a lot of intelligence and commanded the respect of all who knew her. It was intimidating, and she felt like cowering up against the back of the unfamiliar den, but she heaved herself to her paws and faced the she-cat defiantly. "Who are you? Why did you bring me here?"

The she-cat blinked calmly. "We found you passed out on our borders. I am Rainfeather, medicine cat of ThunderClan. I don't suppose you'd like to answer that same question about yourself."

Memory's lip curled. "Why should I trust you?"

"Without me a fox might've found you. Killed you. Left you for the scavengers," Rainfeather meowed, her voice deadly serious. "If I hadn't been out gathering herbs when I was, you wouldn't have stood a chance."

This dealt a definite blow to Memory's pride. She'd passed out? Everything came rushing back – Sparrow's death, her and Harper's quarrel, running. But it didn't matter now. She had left that life behind. Her face stony, Memory pressed on. "I don't know of any ThunderClan. Who are you?" she asked again, her tail lashing.

Rainfeather blinked patiently and continued, "ThunderClan is one of four clans that live around the lake – the other three are ShadowClan, RiverClan and WindClan. We are cats that reside in groups, living and working together as one. You are a rogue, and also quite young, so you are not expected to understand this. I'll understand if you don't."

"I understand fine, thanks," Memory snarled, rolling her eyes. She could recall Sparrow telling her and Cherry stories about cats that lived like this when they were just kits, but her foster mother had never mentioned any clans. She leaned forward in a rushed stretch and attempted to shoulder her way past Rainfeather and out of the den. "I don't want anything to do with that stuff, so I'll be on my way, if you don't mind."

Rainfeather stopped her. "I do mind, actually. Whoever you are, you did not have the scent of any other cats on you. You're awfully young to be living on your own." Her green eyes shined knowingly. Unease prickled through Memory's pelt as she met the she-cat's intense gaze. "Did something happen to your companion?"

"That's none of your business," Memory mumbled, her eyes welling up with tears as she thought about her foster mother. Why do cats keep on bringing this up? she thought, blinking the tears away purposefully.

Rainfeather nodded. "I'm sorry to come off as intrusive. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you, and these lands are no place for young cats such as you to roam alone."

There was a faint, well-concealed maternal intonation to Rainfeather's words that startled Memory. This she-cat didn't even know her name, and yet she cared about her like she was her mother? Memory couldn't hold it in any longer – she needed to tell something, _someone _about everything, and since she had been stupid enough to sever her ties with Harper, she had no one left to confide in. Her voice cracking, Memory told Rainfeather everything, from the story of her birth up to Sparrow's death, and then she couldn't talk any longer. She leaned into Rainfeather's soft pelt and cried, and Rainfeather seemed to understand; and the sympathy felt good.

"I have nowhere to go," Memory breathed, swallowing a sob. "I don't know what to do."

Rainfeather's green eyes glazed for a moment, then she stepped back. "Memory, I'm going to talk to Brightstar," she meowed, "she's the leader of ThunderClan."

Memory cocked her head, but nodded. "O-okay."

She watched as Rainfeather padded thoughtfully out of the den, feeling much better than she had in a good while. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her chest, and now she could breathe freely again, with no fear of suffocation.

_x x x x x x x x x x_

"Did you hear?"

Dewpaw's head turned at the sound of his friend's voice. Darkpaw was padding over to him, his amber eyes shining with the thrill of fresh gossip. "What?" Dewpaw queried, only vaguely interested. He and every other cat knew he was not acting his old self; not after he'd lost both his mother and his sister, his only sibling, in such a short period of time. The previous leafbare's greencough epidemic had left every clan devastated, but none as much as ThunderClan, having lost five cats to the deadly sickness. Dewpaw had never known so much sadness in his life, and it didn't help that no other cat could relate.

"There's going to be a rogue joining ThunderClan," Darkpaw hissed, a flash of emotion passing over the young tom's face, one that Dewpaw didn't recognize. "That ginger she-cat Rainfeather found earlier. They say she's never known any kin but her foster mother, who just only a sunrise ago died."

These words rang mockingly in Dewpaw's ears. Perhaps this rogue could empathize with him; perhaps she would know his pain. The only other living kin he had that he knew of was his father, but Snowdapple wanted nothing to do with him or any cat, not after Mistycloud's death. "Hmm," he mewed, his ear flicking dismissively.

Darkpaw sighed. "Dewpaw…" he muttered, but said nothing more as he turned and padded to the fresh-kill pile, leaving Dewpaw alone with his thoughts.

_x x x x x x x x x x_

"Me… join ThunderClan?"

Memory didn't know what to think. She didn't know any cat in the clan except for Rainfeather and now Brightstar; and suddenly they wanted her to join them? She felt like she was being recruited for some evil plot, even though she knew the idea was ridiculous. Could she bear leaving behind everything she'd ever known – her whole life – and starting fresh?

"Yes," Brightstar mewed, her yellow eyes eager. Her whole personality – let alone her appearance – reminded Memory of Harper. Memory set her expression, forcing thoughts of her old friend aside as she listened to Brightstar's proposition. "You would train to be a warrior, with the other apprentices. You are about eight moons old, by Rainfeather's reckonings, so you would have some catching up to do, but you already know how to hunt and fight, I assume?"

Memory nodded. "Hunting, I can do. Fighting… kind of… but only the basic stuff."

"Good, then you'd be just about up to speed with the other apprentices your age. You'd fit right in, Memory." Brightstar flicked her tail. "Why not? We lost many loyal warriors to greencough this leafbare. We could always use some more."

Excitement coursed through Memory's veins. The life of a warrior did sound nice – you didn't have to depend on yourself all the time; you could count on others, but you weren't completely dependant on them. And now that Sparrow was gone, how could she survive on her own? Memory took a deep breath – and nodded. "Alright, I'll do it," she mewed, her pelt prickling with anticipation. "I'll join ThunderClan."

"Beautiful," Brightstar mewed, her eyes glowing. She gestured with a flick of her ears to just outside of her den, where a rocky pathway led to a tall ledge. The hollow below it was bustling with cats of every shape, size and color. Memory's mouth dropped open in awe of it all. She'd never seen so many different cats in her _lifetime_, let alone all in one place like this! She took a fleeting moment to take it all in – this would be her new home, her new life.

"Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Highledge for a clan meeting," Brightstar yowled, her tortoiseshell-and-white pelt fluffing out and adding to her mounting authority. She looked to Memory and lowered her voice. "This will be your apprentice ceremony, Memory. I'm going to give you a new name, and a mentor, and you'll touch noses with the cat I name, alright?"

Memory nodded. Her head spun as she watched all the cats gather rapidly beneath the ledge, all looking up at their leader expectantly. A few of them glanced at her and turned to their clan mates, muttering. Memory's pelt prickled as she watched them chatting. Were they talking about her?

"Most of you will know that Rainfeather was out gathering herbs earlier this morning when she found a young rogue she-cat unconscious on our border," Brightstar began, eliciting a few shocked gasps and uninterested nods from the throng of cats below her. "This very cat is with us now, and I am pleased to announce that she will be joining the clan."

The response was instantaneous. Many cats' pelts fluffed out indignantly, and there were some yowls of defiance, but Brightstar's lip curled and she waved her long, feathery tail, signaling for silence. The cries of outrage died down as quickly as they had begun. "Some of you may be opposed to this," she continued, her voice hinting at a growl, "and if you are, I would like to inform you that this would mean you are opposed to the way I lead your clan. If any of you wish to confirm this, step forward now."

No cat moved a muscle.

"Good," Brightstar growled, raising her head as if to prove a point. "Then her apprentice ceremony shall commence. Memory, from this day forward, until you receive your full warrior name, you shall be known as Whisperpaw." Brightstar paused, as if to see if any cat would dare to change their mind and oppose her after all, but there was silence. "It has been a long time since I have had an apprentice. Therefore, I will be Whisperpaw's mentor."

The crowd of cats below all seemed to be stunned speechless as Whisperpaw, trembling with some emotion she couldn't recognize, stepped forward and touched noses lightly with the ThunderClan leader. Whisperpaw didn't know if it was any honor to be chosen as the leader's apprentice, but she knew it felt like one.

Then, one cat started up a cheer, something Whisperpaw hadn't expected in her wildest dreams could happen, especially for a rogue like herself. "Whisperpaw!" they cried, the enthusiasm in their tone urging the rest of the clan to take up the cheer. "Whisperpaw! Whisperpaw!"

And in that one moment, that single precious heartbeat, Whisperpaw felt more at peace, accepted and genuinely happy than she had been in moons.

**Do you like Memory's clan name? It's more important than you might think to the story! Oops, shouldn't have told you that, I guess… but you'll find out why eventually. Remember to review if you liked it! And if you didn't… review anyway? :)**


	5. Chapter III

**Disclaimer: I would get sued for claiming to own Warriors, so I won't. Common sense, young grasshoppers…**

**Thank you for the reviews, star, flareon200, horseloverheather-Feathersong and Laughing Rain! Oh, I'm so tempted to tell you if you're right or not, but I won't. ;) Also, I couldn't think of anything other than a video. It was late. D: It bugged me too, trust me. And really?! xD This is one of the first times I've ever done allegiances for all four clan so I was running out of names. I thought I'd have tons more reused names in there. xD Enjoy the chapter and sorry for the unnecessarily long author's note!**

A pale ginger she-cat watched from afar as a brown she-cat collapsed and died, as a ginger she-cat insulted her best friend, and that same she-cat ran and fainted on the borders of one of the lake clans. Oh, this was bad, this was very bad. She watched as the she-cat was accepted into the clan, welcomed as a full member. She had spied on this she-cat her whole life, and nothing had been as interesting – or impacting – as this. Perhaps she would finally receive some praise for her work this time. It was hard to tear her eyes away for the fear she'd miss something important, but she couldn't let this go unreported. Oh, no, she had to tell him right away.

And she did tell him, she told him right away. But did she get a thanks? Even a simple 'good work'? No. She was simply dismissed and told to go and do more work.

The pale she-cat turned and stared at him with hard, cold amber eyes. "I will not act as your slave any longer," she hissed, unsheathing her claws defensively. "I have done my time under your command. You have proven to be an unrewarding employer. I will deal with it no longer."

As the she-cat turned to leave, he spoke up. "You are _nothing_ without me," he growled, his own eyes narrowing.

The she-cat cast him a backwards glance. An unreadable emotion flashed in the depths of her eyes, something that made the tom's blood run cold. It was a look he had rarely even seen in his own eyes, a manic bloodthirst, something uncontrollable and uncontainable. He had known it was happen to her eventually, but he had not expected it to come so early. A bubble of pride swelled in his chest. He had taught her well.

"We'll see," she replied, any emotion in her fading as she turned and padded away into the shadows of the night.

_x x x x x x x x x x_

Whisperpaw's eyes flickered open. At once her fur bristled as she saw her strange environment, but she quickly remembered what had transpired the day before. With a yawn she stood and stretched, groggily taking in the apprentice den. It took her a moment to remember that she was Whisperpaw now, instead of Memory, the name she'd had her whole life. It saddened her, in a way, to lose her birth name; Sparrow had told her it had been given to her by her father, and that had been all she'd had left of her biological parents. But she'd never known them, so she felt no real attachment – now losing Sparrow had been a different story.

Early morning sunlight filtered in through the den entrance, lighting up the back wall and the nests in front of it. Whisperpaw had taken an unoccupied nest in between the apprentices Flowerpaw and Darkpaw, a she-cat and a tom, one slightly younger than her and one older. Whisperpaw took a quick moment to look at where each apprentice's nest was, then careful not to step on any of the soft, dry moss she padded out of the den and into the bright daylight of sunhigh.

Instantly Whisperpaw spotted her mentor's tortoiseshell-and-white pelt from across the clearing. Brightstar smiled at her and sat, curling her feathery tail around her paws. Whisperpaw took this as a signal to go to her mentor's side.

Making her way across camp was uncomfortable. She knew cats were staring at her, talking about her behind her back. She tried to ignore it, but she couldn't help but realize these were the cats she'd be spending the rest of her life with, and if they didn't like her now, would they ever? Shaking off the paranoia Whisperpaw dipped her head respectfully, her whiskers quivering. "Hi, Brightstar," she mewed, her blue eyes bright. "What'll we do first?"

Brightstar suppressed a laugh. "First and foremost, I will have to show you ThunderClan's territory. Follow me and I'll give you a tour." Whisperpaw watched as the she-cat headed for a tunnel of brambles and thorns. Her paws pricking with unease, she rushed to the leader's side.

"Are you sure it's safe in there?" She nodded to the tunnel, which looked like it was ready to swallow them whole.

"Of course it's safe," Brightstar replied, her yellow eyes twinkling with amusement. "That passage has been here as long as ThunderClan. Cats have gone in and out of it for moons and moons. Besides that it's the only way in and out of camp!"

Whisperpaw nodded, but she still wasn't entirely sure. She wanted to make herself as small as possible as she crawled through the brambles. They reached out and pricked at her fur, giving her the chills. The tunnel seemed to go on forever, until finally she emerged into the sunlight after Brightstar, relieved to be breathing fresh air again. The forest before her was unfamiliar. The trees still seemed the same, the light filtered through the leaves in the same way; there was still a thick littering of dead leaves and twigs covering the ground below it, but everything was… different. The sounds were different, the smells were different; the forest had a different atmosphere. Whisperpaw shivered. This would take some getting used to.

"This is ThunderClan's territory," Brightstar meowed, not concealing the pride in her voice. "We are dominant over the forest land. Our borders meet with WindClan territory – the open moors – and ShadowClan territory – the marshland – over _there_ and _there_." Each 'there' was punctuated with a nod of Brightstar's head in the direction she was referring to. "RiverClan owns the river, but they're clear across the lake," she added, flicking her ear thoughtfully.

Whisperpaw nodded. "Okay… where's the lake?" she mewed, parting her jaws in the hope she'd scent it nearby, but there was just the dank, musky forest scent masking everything else. "Is it near here?"

Brightstar shook her head. "No. It's far ahead. We'll get to it in time, but for now we should head over to the WindClan border. That would be closest." She lay her tail on Whisperpaw's shoulder as she began to pad away, but Whisperpaw could hardly bear to tear her eyes away from the beautiful forest. It was so… so peaceful. She was comforted knowing that this was not the same forest she'd lived in throughout her old life as a rogue. She didn't know what she'd do if her past came back to haunt her.

"We have a bit of moorland here on our territory," Brightstar was explaining, her ears flicking toward a few hills, lame compared to those on the other side of a gurgling stream. "This is the Moonpool stream. It leads to a pool where the medicine cats and leaders communicate with StarClan, our warrior ancestors. It is also the border between us and WindClan. The border used to be further against the forest, but ThunderClan's territory was the smallest of the four clans at that point and so we convinced WindClan to give us this side of the stream."

Whisperpaw nodded, but her head was spinning as she tried to take in everything she was hearing. Moonpool? StarClan? It was all news to her, and she knew she'd need more in-depth explanation later. Brightstar was already turning away from the stream, so Whisperpaw turned and followed her, suddenly spotting a vast body of shining water ahead.

"The lake!" she mewed, her blue eyes widening. "Oh my… it's huge!"

Purring with laughter, Brightstar explained, "The spot of land in the distance is the Gathering island. Every full moon, a few cats from each clan gather together in what we call a Gathering. You'll go to one someday, too. It's a night of truce where the clan leaders share news of life in their clan. A long time ago, when the clans first came to this lake, StarClan made a tree fall to act as a bridge between the shore and the island so we could use it. That's how we get over there."

"But wouldn't you have to cross through other clans' territory to reach it?" Whisperpaw asked, raising a brow. Everything was so… fascinating. She couldn't wait to hear more from the elders. Flowerpaw had told her they _loved_ to tell stories, and if they were even better story-tellers than Brightstar, she was eagerly awaiting the time when she'd need to change their bedding. Whisperpaw had always loved a good story, especially from Sparrow. Thinking of her foster mother sent a pang of sadness resounding through Whisperpaw's heart, and she quickly brushed away thoughts of her life. That was gone now, she tried to tell herself.

"You would," Brightstar replied, smiling. "Good catch. But as I said, it is a night of truce. As long as we keep to the edge of the lake we are not technically trespassing." She swiveled her ears in the direction of a large oak tree, towering over all others in the forest. They were coming up on it fast, and it loomed menacingly, making Whisperpaw feel smaller than ever. "That is the Sky Oak. It's a squirrel's ultimate playground," she meowed humorously, whiskers quivering. Whisperpaw laughed, but she stopped as Brightstar's expression turned suddenly grave and she added, "But don't ever try to climb it yourself. It's a surefire way to get yourself crippled, or killed."

"I won't, Brightstar. Where to next?"

"How about the ShadowClan border?" she suggested, her tail flicking. "Then we can head back to camp."

"Sounds good," Whisperpaw answered, her eyes bright as she padded after her mentor happily.

_x x x x x x x x x_

Dewpaw watched as the ginger she-cat padded into camp through the thorn tunnel, looking uncertainly at the brambles around her. He snorted. She'd have to get used to it; if she wanted to live in ThunderClan. Whisperpaw was looking around at the busy camp, looking very lost as Brightstar excused herself and went over to her den at the top of a rocky slope. Feeling suddenly generous he padded over to her, his head titled and ears back.

"Hi," Dewpaw meowed, his ears perking as Whisperpaw's head turned in his direction. "I'm Dewpaw."

"Hello." Whisperpaw dipped her head in acknowledgement. The sun shined on her ginger fur, making it look glossier than it was. Dewpaw stood there stunned for a moment, then brought himself to speak again.

"I… uh… I was just wondering… did your mother really die?" he blurted, feeling his pelt grow hot with embarrassment. Whisperpaw looked stunned for a moment, then her blue eyes clouded with sorrow and she nodded.

"My foster mother," she corrected. "But she was like a mother to me."

"Oh… I'm sorry." The two cats stood in silence for a moment before Dewpaw spoke up once more. "My mother died, too. And my sister. They were ill and Rainfeather had no more catmint."

"I'm really sorry," Whisperpaw breathed. "That must be terrible. Is your father still alive?"

"Yeah, but he doesn't talk to me anymore… he doesn't really talk to anyone. He's really depressed, about Mistycloud died. She was my mom," he added, seeing Whisperpaw's confused expression. It felt good to confide in someone, after all this time of keeping everything all bottled in. "It's… hard," he continued, his whiskers trembling. "Larkpaw was my only sibling, after Smokekit died. We were really close. She caught it from mom, who was the first to catch it… and the first to die," he meowed, his eyes glazing. "No other cat's lost as much as me, it seems. Except for maybe you," he added, tilting his head thoughtfully. "You never knew your real family, _and_ your sibling died, _and_ your mother."

"Yeah, but—" Whisperpaw began, but then stopped dead, staring at Dewpaw in confusion. "How… how did you know my sibling died?"

"I—" But as much as he thought about it, Dewpaw wasn't really sure. He had sort of just _known. _"…Lucky guess?"

Whisperpaw seemed to consider this for a moment, then her brow furrowed and her mouth twisted into a deep frown. "I don't believe you," she snarled. "They've been spreading rumors about me, haven't they, and you've been listening!"

She turned to storm away, but Dewpaw bounded to her side again. "Whisperpaw, wait, that's not…"

"I don't want to hear it," she hissed, whirling around with blue eyes ablaze. "Don't talk to me anymore."

Dewpaw watched helplessly as the ginger she-cat stalked away, fur bristling angrily. He turned to walk away himself, deciding he'd give up on the making-friends thing. It just wasn't his forte.

Maybe he was meant to be friendless.

**Aww, poor Dewpaw D: Sorry about all the needless details about the territory and whatnot, Whisperpaw couldn't just magically know it all, could she now? ;) And now, I'll have a large review with a side of fries, please *shot for lame joke***


	6. Chapter IV

**Disclaimer: Honestly, would I really be writing fanfiction for Warriors if I could be writing the next in OOTS right now? Let me answer that for you: NO.**

**Many thanks to horseloverheather-Feathersong, flareon200, and Laughing Rain for reviewing! Please enjoy the chapter, and sorry it's taken a while to get this one up. I was preoccupied. :)**

"_Whisperpaw. Whisperpaw."_

"Hello?"

Whisperpaw twisted around endlessly, looking for the owners of the voices whispering in her ear; but all she could she was darkness, darkness, and more darkness; as if the moon had gone out, plunging the earth into never-ending night. She could feel solid ground beneath her paws but felt, at the same time, as if she were floating; and the voices would not go away. They knew her name, they knew who she was, but they wouldn't reveal themselves no matter how much she pleaded.

"_Whisperpaw…"_

"Who are you?" Whisperpaw demanded, her blue eyes flashing as she struck out at nothing. She lost her balance and the ground disappeared from beneath her, and suddenly she was free falling, catching sight of a rapidly-approaching fiery light some ways ahead of her. Whisperpaw tried to yowl, but it caught in her throat. The roar of the wind and the pulsing of her blood was silenced, and all Whisperpaw could hear was the voices, saying something other than her name at long last – but she was crestfallen to find it just as cryptic.

"_You know me better than you think…"_

The fiery light swallowed Whisperpaw, and she felt as if her blood was on fire; she screamed and yowled as loud as she could but no one could hear her. A pair of amber eyes flashed across her vision, and then she woke with a gasp, relieved to find she was still safe in her nest of dry moss. The mysterious voices echoed mockingly in her ears and she was still trembling with the memory of the nightmare. She peeked out of the apprentices' den to see the ThunderClan camp bathed eerily in moonlight; all the other cats were asleep except for a guard posted at the thorn tunnel. It was the deputy, Tawnytail. Tentatively Whisperpaw stepped out of the apprentices' den, taking a deep breath of the crisp night air. Tawnytail's head whipped around, and he relaxed as he saw it was only her.

The tawny tom padded over to Whisperpaw, head titled curiously. "Why are you up so late?" he meowed, a hint of suspicion creeping into his voice. "You know you shouldn't be awake…"

"I had a nightmare and I woke up," Whisperpaw blurted, suddenly realizing she wouldn't be able to get out of camp with such a lame excuse. "I… I need to make dirt," she corrected herself, hoping she didn't sound too guilty. Tawnytail sighed and shook his head, but flicked his ears and blinked his consent.

"Go ahead, but I'll expect you back soon," he replied, casting a glance over his shoulder, back at the thorn tunnel. "I'm not mousebrained."

"Right, thank you," Whisperpaw meowed, dipping her head gratefully. She took a hurried step forward and then backed up twice the length she'd gone. "Um… where _is _the dirtplace?" she added, feeling quite embarrassed.

Tawnytail purred with laughter. "Out through the thorn tunnel; take an immediate left. You should see a path through two trees. It leads to the dirtplace."

Whisperpaw nodded and padded away without another word, rushing through the thorn tunnel and stopping outside for a moment to admire the forest at night. It was so… different. Everything seemed bigger and more peaceful, but more dangerous, at the same time. An unseen owl hooted loudly, and Whisperpaw jumped, startled. She tore her eyes away from the dark forest and sought out the path Tawnytail had spoken of. Before she could find it, however, she heard a rustle too obvious to have been made by a mouse or a vole.

Whisperpaw craned her neck around and perked her ears, hoping to hear another rustle. A few heartbeats later there was another noise, but this time it sounded like a twig cracking as if some cat had stepped on it by accident. She decided that it had been coming from a bush a fox-length ahead of her. Her hackles rising defensively, Whisperpaw let out a low hiss. "Who's there?" Her blue eyes flashed. "I can hear you. There's no point in hiding."

What happened next almost stopped Whisperpaw's heart.

A dark ginger tom, one much bigger than Whisperpaw, stepped out from behind the bush, his head dipped in defeat. He didn't look unfriendly, but Whisperpaw hadn't expected any cat to actually _obey_ her. The tom raised his head and their eyes met. A look of recognition passed over the tom's face and Whisperpaw tilted her head. "Who are you?" she breathed, hoping Tawnytail couldn't hear any of this.

"I am Fox," the tom mumbled in reply, his voice deep and fatherly. Fox's dark brown gaze swept searchingly over Whisperpaw's body, as if he were trying to convince himself of something. "You… you do not know me… but…"

"But what?"

Fox pushed his ears back against his skull and he let out a soft purr, shaking his head dismissively. Whisperpaw's lip curled. "But _what_?" she repeated, her ginger tail lashing. "If you haven't got anything good to say, I'd suggest you get off ThunderClan territory, _rogue_." Whisperpaw froze at her own words. Had she really just said that? After all, she'd been a rogue a few sunrises before, just as this tom was now. They were no different, in the end.

"How hypocritical," Fox meowed, tilting his head with laughter dancing in his kindly eyes, "considering you were a rogue before yourself… Memory."

**I'm so, so sorry that this chapter was so short! I just **_**had**_** to end it there, though. :) Please don't hate me! And don't forget to review!**


	7. Chapter V

**Disclaimer: I own Warriors! -coughhackNOTcoughcoughhack-**

**A huge thank you to star, horseloverheather-Feathersong, flowerfern and flareon200 for the reviews! However, if there is anyone new out there that hasn't yet reviewed, I'd love it if you could; you'll get your name mentioned at the top of the chapter and Whisperpaw plushies for all! Yeehaw? :D**

Whisperpaw stared at the tom in shock, her fur bristling at the mention of her old name. "How do you know my real name?" she breathed, feeling her legs grow weak and shaky. This tom seemed to know her from somewhere, but she'd never seen him before this… how was it possible?

"Memory, I –" Fox's voice cracked and faltered, and he took a deep breath before beginning again. His deep brown eyes flashed with some unreadable emotion as he whispered, "Memory… I'm your father."

"_What_?" Whisperpaw had to bite her tongue to keep from yowling. It couldn't be true! How was she supposed to trust him, to know he wasn't lying? "Why should I believe you?" she asked, her voice calm enough to surprise herself. Thank goodness I'm keeping my composure and not completely freaking out for him to see, she thought, with an inkling of relief.

"I gave you that name," he said, his eyes clouding with sorrow, "'Memory'. You looked just like your mother… I couldn't help it… I'm so sorry…" He stifled a sob and buried his face in his chest fur. Whisperpaw felt her heart contract with pity for Fox as she watched his tears slowly fall to the ground.

"I… I don't look like Sparrow," she whispered, still not sure of whether or not she believed this random tom's story. She remembered Sparrow warning her of the malicious toms who would convince young she-cats of outrageous stories just to get them to come with them for their own greedy purposes – but this Fox character didn't seem like he could do that to a cat. Whisperpaw wanted to trust him, but her instincts were still warning her against it. "What proof do you have?"

"Not Sparrow, not your foster mother," Fox replied hoarsely, raising his head once more. "Your _real_ mother, Memory. She was… she died shortly after you were born. Her name was Red," he explained, his voice hollow with grief, "and she was a rogue, like myself. After she died, I had to give you up. I couldn't take care of you, you needed a mother… I'm sorry…"

Whisperpaw's lip curled – she felt heartless, as demanding as she was, but she needed to know that this tom's intentions were true and that he wasn't lying. "I asked you about proof," she growled, her tail lashing. If Fox kept her here too long, Tawnytail might come searching, and _that_ wouldn't be good at all.

"I have no proof, just my word." Fox dipped his head. "I… I will understand if you choose to disbelieve me… but I swear on Red's grave that this is not a lie." His eyes flashed with the same mystery emotion from before, and Whisperpaw's suspicions grew and dissipated at the same time.

"Fine," Whisperpaw breathed, casting a glance toward the sky helplessly. "I… guess I believe you."

Fox took a hesitant step forward and, after a moment's pause, rested his muzzle affectionately on Whisperpaw's head, and a warm feeling spread throughout the ginger she-cat, starting in her paws and flowing through her veins rapidly and seamlessly. In her heart she knew that Fox was not lying – he really was her father. It felt good to find him, even after never having a chance to know him in the first place. She nearly couldn't bring herself to be angry at him for having abandoned her, now that she knew why he'd done it. My father, my real father… I finally found him! she thought, closing her eyes pleasurably.

There was a rustle from the thorn tunnel, and Tawnytail's voice rang out in the silent night. "Whisperpaw? Were you just talking to someone?"

Whisperpaw froze. "You've got to go," she hissed, stepping back from Fox's warm embrace reluctantly, "or else we'll both get in trouble. Go, go; before Tawnytail comes out and sees you!"

She could see in her father's eyes understanding, and she knew he was not disappointed with her for shooing him away so quickly. As he stepped back into the shadows, he looked over his shoulder one last time. "I love you, Memory," he muttered, smiling a half-smile.

Whisperpaw couldn't help but smile back. However, she forced the smile down and turned around to pad back toward the thorn tunnel – just as Tawnytail poked his head out curiously. "Were you with anybody just now, Whisperpaw?" he mewed, his face stony, as if he were challenging her to lie.

Feeling rotten, Whisperpaw shook her head. "No, Tawnytail," she replied innocently, her ears flicking. "I was just talking to myself on my way back here, you see."

"Oh…" Tawnytail stepped aside to let Whisperpaw past, his whiskers quivering. "I see. Don't do that anymore, you were scaring me a bit." Laughter danced in his eyes and Whisperpaw knew he was teasing, but she scuffled hurriedly back to the apprentices' den, hoping Tawnytail couldn't sense her guilt. She could tell that deep down he still didn't fully believe her – but who would? Perhaps a kit, but they were all mousebrained and naïve, as young as they were. She shook her head, deciding it wasn't that big of a deal. If Tawnytail had really still been suspicious, he would've confronted her instead of letting her go… wouldn't he?

As she settled into her nest and her breathing slowed to match the pace of the apprentices around her, she groggily opened her blue eyes one last time and cast a glance toward the moonlit skies, where the stars of Silverpelt shone brightly above her. "I love you too, father," she whispered, before her eyelids drooped and her heartbeat slowed and steadied itself, beating to the peaceful, constant rhythm of sleep.

_x x x x x x x x x x_

She could hear the mouse's frantically beating heart, could feel the warmth of its blood as it pulsed through its veins. It knew something was wrong, but it didn't know what exactly it was, and so it stayed put, quivering helplessly under its dead leaf. She could see it now – its whole body shivering and shaking with fear, its big, brown eyes widened. She licked her lips at the memory of the succulent, tender meal awaiting her. She would not blow it this time. Her muscles tensed as she crouched down, ready to spring. Her claws slid out without a sound, glinting fiercely in the harsh sunlight which filtered in patches down from the heavens above, between the green leaves on the trees and onto the forest floor littered with leaves and twigs. The breeze changed its direction, and the leaf stopped trembling. The mouse had scented her – it was now or never.

She pounced, her tail streaming out behind her, just as the mouse scurried out into the open. She had overshot just enough so that she landed squarely on the mouse's back, feeling the satisfactory crack that resulted as her weight pressed down onto the small creature's spine. Though she knew it was already dead, her claws sunk easily into its throat, bloodying her ginger paws. Her eyes flashed triumphantly as she reached and grasped the mouse in her jaws, turning to face her clan mates with her head held high. Whoever thought she was rubbish at hunting couldn't say so anymore, not after she'd so blatantly proved otherwise. She padded over to her mentor's side, dropping the fresh-kill at her tortoiseshell paws, feeling a burst of pride as she looked up and saw the pleased look in the ThunderClan leader's yellow eyes. She'd done it.

"Job well done, Whisperpaw," Brightstar purred, her tail curling delightedly. She parted her jaws quickly to scent the air, then closed them again and fixed her apprentice with a knowing stare. "I can see that you are what you say you are – a great cat and an even better hunter." Behind her, Cinderspots and Leaftail purred with laughter, their own tails lashing. Whisperpaw could see they were itching to hunt after watching her make her own kill, and she felt the same way now that she'd felt the thrill of executing a perfect kill once.

"Thank you, Brightstar." Whisperpaw dipped her head respectfully, her paws tingling with excitement as she absorbed her mentor's every word. Every time Brightstar praised her it was like she was feeling that rush of becoming a new apprentice all over again; she couldn't get enough of it. She'd never heard so much praise in her life, even from Sparrow, and she welcomed it.

Brightstar nodded. "Of course. If you'd like you can go fetch that squirrel you caught and take your fresh-kill back to camp to have a nice meal. You deserve it, after all."

Whisperpaw's mouth twitched inexplicably into a grin. "I'll enjoy it, thanks," she meowed, flicking her ears gratefully as she picked up the mouse once more and padded happily past the rest of the hunting patrol, trying to remember where she'd buried the squirrel. It had been by the Sky Oak, if she remembered rightly – she'd caught it just as it made a mad dash for the safety of the ancient tree, demonstrating excellent timing and precision, key survival skills Sparrow had made sure to teach her thoroughly.

Thinking about her foster mother brought that familiar wave of depression that Whisperpaw dreaded. She couldn't help but worry she'd never figure out how to block it, knowing how distracting it was. Whisperpaw swerved to avoid a patch of deathberry bushes, eyeing the bright red berries curiously. She hadn't even known deathberries grew on ThunderClan territory, and she'd been here for a moon already. And to think I thought I knew the territory better than the back of my paw, she thought, her whiskers trembling irritably. She'd have to remember where those deathberries were so she could make sure to avoid them in the future.

For a while longer she trotted on in silence, lost in thought, until the hulking shape of the Sky Oak appeared in the distance. Whisperpaw's pace quickened until she was running at almost top speed, anxious to get back to camp. Her belly started to grumble hungrily and she dug her claws into the ground with each paw step, remembering how Sparrow had taught her doing so would give her more traction while sprinting as she was. Before she knew it she was skidding to a halt to scent the air for the squirrel's prey-scent; and digging frantically to find her fresh-kill.

"I hope you don't mind, but I took your squirrel."

Whisperpaw let out a low hiss and whirled around, her tail lashing in frustration. Was Hazelwhisker pulling her leg again, or – her blue eyes widened dramatically as she saw the cat behind her. A lean tom, muscles rippling beneath a sleek creamy pelt, stared at her from calm amber eyes, narrowed as if daring her to challenge him. His scent was not of the clans, and Whisperpaw could tell in one fleeting instant that he was a rogue.

"That squirrel was mine, I caught it. You can't just _take it_ from me," she growled, her face stony. Deep inside the pit of her stomach, Whisperpaw was beginning to worry. If this tom wanted to hurt her, she'd have no one to help her, and they weren't even close to being evenly matched.

"Oh, but can't I?" The tom purred with cold laughter, sighing with a distant exasperation, as if Whisperpaw were just any annoying kit. Her temper flared, but she fought valiantly to stifle it. She couldn't let this situation get out of hand, not when she was alone like this.

"What makes you think you're so high and mighty that you can just go around stealing other cats' prey?" Whisperpaw shot back, resisting the urge to wince as the larger tom's eyes flashed. I will not show weakness, I will not show weakness… Whisperpaw grit her teeth and waited for the rogue's reply, her claws sinking into the soil.

"As far as I can see, I am stronger, bigger and older than you." The tom's lip curled and his tongue slid over his sharp, white teeth, sending shivers down Whisperpaw's spine. "Does that not give me an advantage?"

Beginning to feel desperate, Whisperpaw meowed, "Look, I'm not trying to pick any fight, I just want my fresh-kill back. It's not rightfully yours, I don't see why you think you can take it."

A low, threatening hiss escaped the tom's lips and his fur bristled. "My name is Lightning," he breathed, a wild bloodlust seeping slowly into his amber eyes, "and this will be _my_ forest, sooner or later. You just wait and see, little Whisperpaw. You just wait and see…"

Before she even had to time to absorb the rogue tom's words, he had lashed out at with unsheathed claws, catching her over the side of the head. Whisperpaw let out a bloodcurdling yowl as her anxiety grew rapidly and burst into fiery, searing pain, and then everything went black.

**Bwahahaha. You have NO idea what's going to happen, eventually... I swear... I have to force myself to take this slowly. I wanted to introduce Lightning a few more chapters into the story, but this was like the perfect oppurtunity, so I decided to take it. I hope it doesn't seem too rushed o: This is not the last we'll see of him OR Fox, you have my word... Anyway, review, plzkthxbai!**


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